reeds. His brain reeled. They had said that her voice could steal reason itself from those whom it tempted; they had said that her lie brought a thousand times subtler charm of conviction than the truth of other women ever bare in it; at dawn she had abased herself in guilt before him, now, at midnight, she swore to him that no treachery to him was on her.
"Not mine!" he echoed. "When my foe is your paramour, my assassin your care! Silence! silence! They say that you tempt men till they lose all likeness of themselves—all power to see you as you are; but you died to me for ever when you owned yourself dishonoured!"
"Wait! At dawn you gave me your pity!"
"Pity—pity—pity! God! you know what a man's passion is! Can it yield that cold, merciful, sinless thing when it consumes itself in hell-fire? Pity!—what pity had you?"
It was the sole reproach he had cast at her.
"Ah! hear me, only hear me! To you I had no sin!"
He gave but one meaning to her answer; a bitter moan broke from him; for an instant his arms touched her to draw her once more to his embrace, then they fell as though nerveless and useless.
